Pancreatic cancer is the 4th leading cause of cancer death in the United States, but receives the least research funding of the major cancers.
Updated:
Oct. 15, 2005
Pancreatic cancer patient teaches a lesson in resiliency
By Dario Altieri, M.D.
Brian Davis died Saturday from complications of pancreatic cancer. He had been living with the disease for a little more than three years, a record given the dismal outlook of these patients.
For me, Brian came to epitomize the good and the ugly of our daily work. The good is the people with cancer, and their courage, will and resilience. The ugly is the disease, which we can’t fully understand, can’t fully treat and can’t fully cure.
I met Brian shortly after my first Walk to Cure Cancer in Worcester. I had arrived only two weeks earlier from New Haven. My house was full of boxes, and my 1-year-old just wouldn’t sleep in the new place, day or night. Brian approached me in the hospital cafeteria at UMass, tall, proud and handsome. He said he had seen me on stage the day of the walk. We started talking about his ordeal, the first signs, the deep abdominal pain, the shocking diagnosis, the destructive surgery and the long chemotherapy.
He told me how all that had changed him. For the better. He told me the unthinkable, that cancer is not all bad, because it helps focusing us on the really important things. He told me that he wanted to use himself to make the difference in pancreatic cancer, to help others. And heaven knows we need help in pancreatic cancer.
The fourth leading cause of cancer death in the United States, pancreatic cancer has a mortality rate of about 98 percent, and most patients do not survive past the first six months from diagnosis. There is no screening, and curative surgery is rare. Drug companies go to the national media when they can show a two-week improved survival. Federal research funding is scarce — about 10 percent of other leading cancers — and private foundations have limited impact.
"It’s because there are no spokespersons," Brian used to say. "There aren't too many of us walking around." In fact, pancreatic cancer never had its Michael Milken, who can give advice on prostate cancer to his arch nemesis Rudy Giuliani, or its Lance Armstrong, who can have a few hours alone with the president of the United States for a bike ride.
So Brian became that spokesperson for all of us. He was tireless in his involvement with the Pancreatic Cancer Alliance, a passionate movement that he helped shape with his force and presence. His motto, “Don’t give up the fight” became a flagship of courage and resilience in Worcester.
Last year, I asked him to be on stage for the Walk to Cure Cancer. There, 7,000 people shouted with him, "Don’t give up the fight." His newspaper articles, Web site contributions and countless phone calls opened up a new world for thousands of people who had never heard of pancreatic cancer, and what it meant.
In the end, the disease came back for Brian. He fought to the end with bravery, dignity and passion. My physicians did their best. They were not scared that his advanced disease would make our statistics “look bad.” They burned his tumor with radiation, reconstructed his spine, sealed a cavity in his lungs and pressured his insurance to pay for the best possible treatment.
I have many memories of Brian, and they are all luminous. But one stands out.
He had come to my office one evening, dressed in a dark olive suit, proud, tall and handsome. He told me that he was now sure that the disease had come back. I tried to reassure him, I don’t know with what success, that it may still be years before those nut-size lesions in his lungs could create problems, and there were options to get rid of them. The next morning, I dropped him an e-mail to ask him how things were going.
He said that he went home, and after dinner he stepped outside in his little yard to plant some flowers. There, in the cool air of the night, in the dark and mist, he told me, he had found solace and peace with himself, his body. Since then, every time I am out in the evening and there is the smell of rain and damp earth and fog, I think of my friend Brian.
We won’t give up the fight.
Dario C. Altieri, M.D., is director of the UMass Memorial Cancer Center in Worcester
"As I See It" Op-Ed, published Sept. 23, 2005, Worcester Telegram & Gazette
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Hope@PancreaticAlliance.org
